


those who are in favour with their stars

by Purseplayer



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purseplayer/pseuds/Purseplayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their stars align in every lifetime, but sometimes they align more perfectly than others.  Five lifetimes in which Kurt and Blaine loved each other, and one lifetime in which they were in love.  A soulmates!AU (kind of).  Title from Shakespeare’s Sonnet XXV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those who are in favour with their stars

  1. **Kurt is six; Blaine is forty-three.**



When Kurt first met Blaine, he was afraid.

The other men in the shop were already familiar to him.  Tommy and Lou came over to his house every week for Monday night football, and Alex was practically a kid himself.  Sometimes when the shop wasn’t busy, he and Kurt would sit and color.

But Blaine was new.  He seemed quiet, frowning, gruff and scary-looking as they approached him, and Kurt tried to walk the other way, tugging on Mama’s hand, but Mama just smiled and shushed him, pulling him along.

Then Blaine put down the wrench he’d been using and turned and knelt down in front of Kurt, and his bearded face widened into a huge grin, and Kurt thought how silly he’d been.  Blaine wasn’t scary at all.

Blaine was his new best friend. 

Blaine played tag with him and hide and seek and even paper dolls and tea party.  Blaine had a wife named Lydia who was nice and pretty and baked Kurt cookies when he came over.  Blaine called him sweet pea and told funny jokes that made Kurt laugh until his belly hurt.  Blaine held him when he cried because the kids at school had taunted him again, and he told Kurt all the time that he was special.

Kurt’s mom adored Blaine, but sometimes Kurt’s dad would get a funny look on his face after Kurt and Blaine had spent time together.  When Kurt was thirteen, his father pulled him aside one day and awkwardly suggested that maybe now that Kurt was growing up, he should stop being so “touchy-feely” with the older man.

Kurt smiled and laughed it off.  Blaine was the best thing in his life, sometimes the _only_ good thing.  He would never hurt Kurt.  Why couldn’t his dad see that?

*******

When Blaine met Kurt, he felt something twist and tug and press within his heart.  He had always loved children and had regretted never having any of his own, though Lydia was worth it.  But this boy meant something _more_.

For some inexplicable reason, Kurt became the most important person in Blaine’s life the moment they first locked eyes.

Kurt was an easy child to love, but loving him was hard.  The boy was different—different in a way that echoed painful reminders of Blaine’s own childhood, different in a way that he knew all too well other children Kurt’s age wouldn’t understand or appreciate.  He came to the shop crying more afternoons than Blaine could count.

Blaine noticed the looks Burt gave him when Kurt all-too-often ran straight into Blaine’s arms upon arriving home from school.  Fear, confusion, jealousy.  It wasn’t enough to stop him from offering the boy any comfort he could.

As Kurt grew older, the tears became bruises that Blaine knew Kurt hid from his father.  For the first time in a long time, Blaine didn’t know what to feel, what to do.  He wanted to hunt those boys down and plant his fists into their faces.  He also never wanted to betray Kurt’s trust.

Blaine saw it all, knew it all.  He knew when Kurt’s first kiss was stolen from him.  He watched as Kurt developed an ill-fated crush on the nineteen-year-old Burt had just hired.  He was there for Kurt’s first date, and it was Blaine who picked him up from a stranger’s house one night halfway through senior year when Kurt called, half-drunk and crying and no longer innocent. The night his dad died of a heart attack, Blaine tucked Kurt into the bed in his guest room when he finally cried himself to sleep, unable to resist pressing a kiss to the young man’s forehead before leaving the room to phone his frantic mother.  When Kurt got married three years later, he proudly walked him down the aisle in his father’s stead.

If these things made Blaine’s heart ache in a way that perhaps they shouldn’t, he tried not to dwell on it.  At his age, Blaine had come to accept that there were some things that simply couldn’t be understood.

  1.  **Kurt is a harrier; Blaine is a baby rabbit.**



Flying was Kurt’s most favorite thing, and what he loved best was to fly alone.  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the females that had shared his life.  Rachel and Mercedes had both been special to him in their own way, as Quinn, his current mate, was now.  It was just that it never quite felt right, mating with them.  He wasn’t enthusiastic about it like the other males he met; he simply did it because that’s what male harriers _did_.

Today Kurt thought he might have made it out about forty-five miles, bringing him to a total of around ninety, round-trip.  He hadn’t eaten much—only a few small mice he’d found—but he was hopeful, as he neared his nest, that Quinn had managed to scavenge something she might be willing to share.

As luck would have it, he found her cornering a few baby rabbits.  They were trapped, helpless, scampering around frantically while Quinn feasted on what was likely their former brother or sister.  A rush of pride swept through Kurt to accompany the pangs of hunger.  He’d chosen his mate wisely; Quinn would be a good mother to their nestlings when they hatched.

He approached, nudging her fondly with his beak to signal his arrival, and quickly turned his attention to their meal.  There were three left, and Kurt considered each of them carefully in turn—did he want the largest, or maybe the most frightened?  He thought that Quinn probably enjoyed their fear more than he would.

But as he turned to the last one—tiny, balled up in the corner and shaking like a leaf—something strange happened.  He moved closer, brushing the tip of his wing across the tiny creature’s back until at last it looked up at him, and their eyes locked.

 _He’s actually quite beautiful_ , Kurt thought, and instantly recoiled because that was _crazy_.  Rabbits, if small enough, were food, plain and simple.  Besides, this one didn’t look particularly different from his siblings except for his size.  So why was Kurt’s stomach suddenly turning at the thought of ripping the animal apart?

Kurt backed up, tried to shake it off, but those eyes followed him.  It occurred to Kurt that the rabbit no longer looked afraid.  Instead he looked… hopeful?  Fixated?

Fixated on what?  On _Kurt_?

There was a crunching sound as Quinn’s beak sunk into her next victim, and Kurt flinched, the queasy feeling intensifying.  Before he even knew what he was doing, he was rushing at the tiny rabbit, picking him up more gently than he’d ever lifted prey before and flying off, as far away and quickly as possible.

He didn’t know where he was going, but on instinct he sought out someplace safe.  Choosing the first secure location he spotted, Kurt brought them again to the ground, releasing the small rabbit onto soft grass and nuzzling against him.

It didn’t make any sense, but Kurt was beginning to recognize the feeling growing within him—a feeling he’d only felt intensely once before, for his parents, and this wasn’t like that at all.

Night was falling, and Kurt was still hungry, but he brushed it aside as the rabbit nestled up under his wings and they settled in together.  In the morning, he would seek out another cluster of rabbits far from his nest and leave this one among them where he would be safe.

For now, Kurt treasured the feeling of holding him close.

**3\. Blaine is betrothed to Kurt’s sister.**

His bride arrived in early spring, accompanied by only her brother and a few servants.  It was the first time they had met.  Adrianna was beautiful, with thick auburn hair, sparkling blue eyes and a smile that never stopped.

Her brother was even more so.

Blaine had always known that his attractions were not set on women, and he had known equally that this fact would not change the duties he was bound by birth to fulfill.  In the past, desire had been an easy thing to turn off—even during the six month stint when Sebastian, heir to the Dalton estate, stayed in his home and pursued Blaine with a loathsome, self-centered confidence and aggressive determination. 

But Kurt was something different, and what Blaine felt for him was something more than attraction.

At first Blaine tried to avoid the other man, but this proved impossible as Kurt was duty-bound to play chaperone as Adrianna and Blaine got acquainted.  Consequently, the two men learned they shared similar tastes in many areas and ended up developing a strong friendship that eventually extended beyond their common bond with Kurt’s sister.  In the evenings, Kurt would sing (his voice was like an angel’s) while Blaine accompanied him on the viol and Adrianna on the lute.  Almost every morning, Kurt and Blaine would go riding together through the estate’s numerous pastures.

Adrianna was thrilled and encouraged them to spend time together. 

Blaine was anxious.

*******

Kurt was resigned.

Blaine and Adrianna were wed in June, and the ceremony was beautiful. 

In late August, Kurt would be expected to leave for the monastery.

Kurt’s quarters were moved directly across from Blaine’s on the day of the wedding so that he might remain close to his sister.  When he heard her cry out in the night, he closed his eyes and imagined it was him.

The next morning Blaine’s golden eyes found his over the breakfast table, and Kurt somehow knew he’d been thinking the same thing.

Their morning rides continued, much to Kurt’s surprise.  Sometimes they would trot side by side and talk.  Other times, they would race at a gallop.  Blaine almost always won, but Kurt claimed it was only because he had the advantage of a horse he’d reared himself.  Kurt mentioned the monastery only once, and Blaine caught his hand and held it for far longer than necessary.

Kurt was grateful.  He wanted to remember the feeling of Blaine’s fingers twined with his for the rest of his life.

The days passed too quickly, and Kurt’s heart grew heavy as his departure loomed closer.  Adrianna always noticed; she would pull him into a long hug and remind him that they’d see each other again.

They didn’t have plans to go riding the day before Kurt left, but that morning there was a note slid under his door.

_One last time, please.  Tonight._

There was no signature.  Kurt didn’t need one.

*******

Blaine was waiting outside the stables with both horses already saddled, fidgeting in nervous anticipation.

He wasn’t planning it.  He knew it was inevitable.

They didn’t speak as they rode into the forest, where the trees were so close together the horses could barely squeeze through.  Kurt didn’t question him when they stopped at a clearing, when Blaine helped him down from his horse.

He whimpered when Blaine pressed him into the tree and took his mouth.  The kiss was hungry with months of pent up denial, frantic with lust and anticipation, desperate like the last time this was.

“Can you live with the guilt?” Blaine whispered against his lips.

“I’ll repent soon enough,” Kurt replied, breathy and lower than Blaine had ever heard him speak.  He paused, then added, “though I won’t mean it.”

Blaine searched Kurt’s eyes, and when he spoke again his voice was heavy with remorse.  “After tonight, I will only call you brother.”

Kurt’s smile was somehow wry andsad at once, and Blaine traced it with his finger.  “In a fortnight, so will everyone else.”

There were no more words—only passion to carry them through till dawn.

*******

After that there were visits and children and daily prayers.  They lived and loved and laughed, passed the years together as true brothers.

They were very good at pretending.

**4\. Kurt adopts Blaine.**

Kurt went to the pet store to buy a cat.

That wasn’t what he left with.

*******

Blaine was a lonely puppy.  The last of his siblings had been adopted two days ago, and he was starting to lose hope that anyone would want him.  Was there something wrong with him?  He knew he was smaller, plainer than Mason who had speckles of tan-orange through his fur or Haylee who had pretty green eyes.  But he could be good; he could be good better than they could!

It was his ninth day here—maybe his tenth; it was hard to keep track—and Brittany, the bubbly blonde who worked at the shop, was just opening up.  Blaine liked Brittany.  She seemed to sense that he was sad and was always sure to give him extra cuddles before she left at the end of the day.

He curled up in the corner of his cage, resting his head on his front paws as a middle-aged woman holding the hand of a small blonde boy walked by and quickly passed him over in favor of the yappy Chihuahua in the next pen.  This day was already shaping up to be exactly like the rest.

The hours passed slowly, as they always did.  Lunch came and went.  Blaine was let out once in the early afternoon to play with a teenage girl, but as much as she argued on her cell phone, whoever was on the other end refused to give her permission to take him home, and in the end she left in tears.  He was okay with that—the girl had been nice enough, but her long nails were too rough when she scratched him, and she didn’t smell quite right.

Blaine saw Brittany approaching the door to turn the sign over to ‘Closed’ and sighed.

Then he saw the man. 

He was older, maybe late forties or fifties, but Blaine still thought he was very beautiful for a human.  Blaine had never seen a man who looked like him before—fine, elegant features, sparkling blue eyes, funny clothes that somehow made him seem more put together.  His ears perked up when Brittany let the man in, trying to catch on to their conversation.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any kittens left today, sir, but we do have some nice older cats.  Lord Tubbington swore to me yesterday that they weren’t really in the mafia!”

The man looked as confused as Blaine felt, but he nodded anyway, and Blaine felt his heart sink.  Of course a man who looked like _that_ would be a cat person.

Still, his eyes scanned each cage as Brittany led him to the back of the store where the cats were kept, and Blaine tried hard to smooth his fur and straighten his body so he’d look his best, barely daring to hope.

Then the man’s eyes met his, and Blaine’s heart leapt in his chest.

They didn’t look away.

“Who’s this?” the man asked Brittany, halting all movement.

Brittany smiled.  “That’s Blaine.  He’s the last of his litter… the runt, poor guy.  He’s super friendly and sweet, would you like to see him Mr…?”

“Kurt,” the man supplied, finally breaking contact and turning to the blonde.  “And yes, I think I would.”

Blaine tried to stop it when his tail started wagging and his body began squirming in excitement, a bark escaping despite his best efforts, but the man only smiled at him—a smile that Blaine felt shiver through his whole body.

It felt like _home_.

**5\. Kurt is the victim of a tragic accident (incident?); Blaine is the nurse assigned to care for him.**

Blaine had tried his best to steel himself for his new assignment when he’d first been told.  _He’s about your age,_ his supervisor had said.  _A tragedy, really.  He’s paralyzed from the neck down, and his vocal chords were damaged, so he can’t speak.  The poor thing is pretty much trapped in his own body._

As it turned out, there was no way to be prepared.  But Blaine showed up at the Hummel home each day with a smile on his face regardless.  It was his job, and more than that, it was who he _was_.

But he wasn’t made of stone.  Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of the fabulous clothes in Kurt’s closet, many clearly handmade, or the scrapbook on the boy’s shelf that had “Bound for Broadway” spelled out in magazine letters across the front, or pictures of Kurt performing on a stage with his friends, and he couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.

That wasn’t the hardest part.  The hardest part happened too many times each day, every time their eyes would meet.  Something would spark through Blaine that felt like a promise—a promise he knew would never be fulfilled.  Kurt’s eyes were blue and bright and _dead_ , and the despair there would sink into Blaine’s own chest and threaten to swallow him whole.

Blaine wished more than anything for a way they could communicate beyond blinks that meant yes or no.

Every day he sat with this boy and read to him and played music; he fed him and bathed him and dressed him and helped with necessities.  He tried not to notice how beautiful Kurt’s body still was, or each time his eyes squeezed shut in shame.

Blaine hated his job as much as he loved it.

*******

It was the most horrible feeling in the world, and now it was the entirety of Kurt’s reality.

He was only twenty years old.  How was he supposed to face another sixty, seventy years like _this?_

Blaine made it so much worse, because Blaine made him feel things he’d always wanted to feel so badly.  But now it was all a waste.

And yet, it made it worth it just a little, waking up in the morning and knowing that Blaine would be there.

It still wasn’t enough.

They had a system.  Blink once for yes, twice for no. 

Several months into their time together, on a day like any other, Blaine asked him “one pill?” (for the pain)

“Two pills?”

Blaine smiled, and Kurt knew he thought they were playing a game.  His answer remained the same as the number climbed. 

Eventually, with a small laugh, “what, you want me to give you the whole bottle?”

Blaine frowned.

Kurt knew that Blaine knew then that Kurt hadn’t been playing.

*******

Blaine tossed and turned that night, frantically contemplating what Kurt had told him.

He’d heard of assisted suicide, of course.  They’d glossed over it in nursing school.  Blaine wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he knew it was illegal.

He knew that every day, Kurt suffered.

He knew—felt it deep down in his very core—that in some other reality, he would love Kurt in a way that he couldn’t in this one.

But how did it all add up?

The next morning, Blaine caught Burt before he headed out to work.

“Mr. Hummel,” he said softly, dreading his next words but forcing himself ahead.  “I think you should know that yesterday Kurt told me… that is, he communicated… I think he wants to kill himself.”

Burt froze, staring down into his mug of coffee.

“Mr. Hummel?”

But Burt just shook his head.

Blaine had asked before, but he needed to hear it again.  “Is there really no hope for him?”

Burt did look up then, his blue eyes that were so much like Kurt’s shining with tears.  “No, son,” he said in a monotone.  “Irreversible.”

Blaine bit his lip and leaned hard against the table.  There was nothing more to say.

******

A few weeks later, Blaine left Kurt alone, safely propped up in the bath, to go check on the stew he had prepared for dinner.

When he returned little more than five minutes later, Kurt was already gone.

Blaine tried to resuscitate him.

He could have tried harder.

**1\. sometimes they align more perfectly**

Kurt woke to sunlight streaming through the bay window and pouring over their bodies, warm skin pressed against his back and the tickle of curls at his neck, the lingering feeling of perfect comfort and contentment that was all too rare in life and that he'd long ago learned to treasure.

 

He stretched carefully, wanting to linger and bask for as long as possible.  He turned, shifted, pressed his nose against Blaine's and slung one leg over his hip, trailed his hand across the soft bronze expanse of Blaine’s back and lower, squeezing the perfect amount of flesh there that Kurt still marveled at, even after thirteen plus years together.  Thirty years old and he was still convinced that Blaine's ass was the finest on Earth.

 

Over so much time together they'd developed an easy, familial attachment that Kurt had come to cherish.  Blaine was family; he belonged; they were yoked, their relationship worn and easy like an old quilt, passed down through generations. 

 

But underneath that and on top of it and around it was something more—something that had been instant, had felt even more ancient, though every time it sparked within Kurt it remained exciting, new, and impossible to resist.

 

It had clicked into place all those years ago on a staircase, the moment their eyes met.  Kurt's brow had lifted in surprise, in recognition that he didn't fully understand.  Déjà vu, maybe, and it was almost frightening in intensity.

 

Now Blaine squirmed against him, one hand creeping up to rub at his eyes and then they were blinking open, a familiar warm hazel.  It was happening again, and Kurt would never get tired of this: the incredible, inconceivable, indescribable bond he felt when Blaine...

 

*******

 

looked into his eyes, and it was overwhelming, the need to catch this strange boy up close and never let him get away.

 

Blaine had always wanted to belong, but nothing ever felt quite right—not his own family, not his old school, not even this one, really, though he was becoming an expert at pretending.

 

The boy was pale and pretty, blue eyes soft and complex and so full of feeling—feeling that Blaine knew instinctively was somehow a match for what was now pressing against his own chest, but none of it made sense.  It couldn't be this easy.  It had never been easy before.  Blaine had gotten used to never fitting.

 

When he held out his hand the boy took it, the weight of his fingers a simple thing, but Blaine never wanted to let go.

 

He didn’t understand it for a long time, but then there came a moment when he did.

 

It was like the stars aligned, exactly right, and suddenly Blaine had words.

 

"Oh, there you are," he told Kurt.  "I've been looking for you forever."


End file.
